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The ground shook.

“What is that?” Skye asked. Taly’s lips were pale—as pale as the hand he clenched in both of his.

He’d felt her. Through the bond, he’d felt her holding on.

“No, no, this is good,” Ivain insisted as the room around them trembled. “The bigger the aether pool, the louder the collision.”

“What does that mean?” Skye snapped.

“She’s coming out of chrono-stasis.”

“Shards, I knew I should’ve packed away the antiques with a time mage in the house,” Sarina muttered, darting around the room to rescue anything fragile.

The walls groaned, cracks spiderwebbing across the plaster. Light fixtures swung wildly. Objects rattled off tables, some shattering, others vibrating so intensely they disintegrated into dust.

Everything, Skye realized, was turning… to dust . As if time itself was unraveling.

Raw magic stung his skin, and then—

Taly’s eyes snapped open—no gray, only white.

“Well, that’s unusual,” Ivain murmured.

“Not comforting!” Skye snapped.

The space around her trembled, reality itself bracing for impact.

Then it hit—the full weight of her magic surged within her as her soul collided with her body.

She gasped, her back arching violently. Air scraped into her lungs, but the scream bubbling in her throat blocked it, leaving her choking on both.

“She’s going to bite off her tongue,” Sarina barked, but Aiden was already shoving a leather strap between her teeth.

The room shook harder. Dust fell from the ceiling in great sighing rivers as cracks spread across the floor.

“Talya . ” Ivain’s voice was calm, steady—but his eyes betrayed him. Fear flickered beneath the surface. His hands shook as he gripped her shoulders. “Focus. Ground yourself. You have to take control.”

Violet light pulsed from Ivain’s hands, his magic threading into hers, but it wasn’t enough. Her power thrashed, desperate to stay vast, resisting as it was dragged into something smaller, something finite.

“I need you,” he said to Skye. “She’s too strong for me alone.”

Grabbing onto her magic was like seizing a lightning bolt. Raw power surged through him, hot and electric.

It was wild, a force of nature barely contained.

It was Taly, through and through, and the sheer enormity of her magic—there was no doubt about it. She was a High Lord’s daughter with an aether pool just as vast.

Every nerve, every muscle strained to hold it, to soothe it, his own aether wrapping around hers like a vice. It came in waves. Each surge met their combined strength, a wall of unyielding force.

Little by little, they reined it in.

Little by little, Taly began to calm.

Until finally, she slumped on the ground, her heartbeat slow but drumming.

Panting, Skye released his grip. She lay on her side, head at an odd angle. He didn’t dare move her. Didn’t dare touch her. Didn’t do anything that might set off another bout of… whatever the hell that was.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Space shifted, subtle but deliberate.

Then Calcifer spilled out of a seam in reality, a ribbon of black unspooling. Shadows stretched and folded, changing into that familiar, vaguely feline shape. Only half-transformed, his haunches still coalescing, he nudged at Taly’s shoulder.

She groaned, low and pained. Her hand trembled as she reached for Calcifer’s flank. Skye moved forward, hands hovering, unsure whether to help. Slowly, she dragged herself upright, sagging against the beast for support.

Blinking and disoriented, Taly lifted her head—only to find her family staring back at her.

Sarina, wide-eyed and pale. Arms full of fragile antiques, clutched haphazardly.

Ivain, his hair possibly a shade whiter, frozen, his mouth agape.

Aiden, collapsed onto the floor.

And Skye, hovering uselessly, one hand still extended.

Taly removed the strap from her mouth, grimacing at the taste as she turned it over in her hands.

Silence stretched.

Her throat protested the first time she tried to speak. It took a few attempts before her voice rasped out, hoarse but steady.

“What’d I miss?”

Dying wasn’t easy. But what came after—that was worse.

As if surviving the ordeal wasn’t bad enough, the next morning left Taly feeling like she’d been run over by an airtram, chewed up by a pack of grendel, and then left out for the harpies to pick over.

Her aether was gone. Her veins hurt, like they’d been sucked dry. She’d lost most of it in the collision with her body, like a comet burning up upon re-entry.

Needless to say, she woke up feeling downright irritable. The faeflower tonic was extra slimy that morning, which didn’t help.

Neither did the royal pain in her ass she’d woken up next to, who, if he didn’t stop throwing around orders, was going to find out just how creative she could get with a dagger.

“For the last time, no ,” Taly snarled, shoving her feet into a pair of boots.

Outside the closet, Skye growled, “Taly, if you would just—”

“No, no, no .” She yanked her favorite tunic off the hanger, deep blue silk with gold embroidery along the collar. “I’m not going to stop scrying!”

Skye was frowning when she exited the closet—big shock there. Sitting on the edge of the bed, bristling, every single one of those stupid, overbearing Fey instincts were on high alert.

Taly ignored him, checking her reflection in a long mirror. She looked pale. Weariness dulled her eyes, with dark circles underneath. Even the color seemed faded, as if the drain on her aether had stolen some of that Highborn light.

Dying was hard on the body—even for an immortal. She could feel Skye making the same assessment behind her.

But that wasn’t what made her frown.

The room was a disaster .

It was like she was seeing it for the first time.

Clothing—hers and his—lay scattered after being hastily discarded.

Pillows and blankets were still piled by the fire, remnants of nights spent talking, laughing, and making love beside it.

The roughly three-square inches of satin and lace she’d surprised him with, what, two days ago?

… was still draped haphazardly over a lamp.

And she was certain the bottle of massage oil on the nightstand, slightly ajar, had left a stain on the wood.

She couldn’t complain too much, considering she’d had a hand in making the mess. She’d been so wrapped up in Skye, that magic tongue, and even more magical cock that her usual tidying had fallen by the wayside.

She made a mental note to add to her to-do list: get your shit together .

Her lungs were on fire. Taking a seat at her vanity, Taly placed a hand to her chest and tried not to make too big a show of trying to catch her breath. She hadn’t needed the airbalm in weeks. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, catching Skye’s eyes in the mirror.

Somehow, his face turned even more disapproving. “You should be in bed right now.” She scoffed. “I’m serious. You were dead on the floor less than eight hours ago. Where are you even getting dressed to go?”

Taly ripped a brush through her hair. “I have a shift at the healing park.”

“No, you don’t. Aiden canceled it.”

Well, Aiden couldn’t stop her from showing up anyway. The same way Skye couldn’t stop her from scrying just because he’d unilaterally decided it was too dangerous.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Taly, you died .”

“Yes, I remember.”

“And you still haven’t said exactly what happened to you.”

“Because you interrupted me. If you recall, I started this conversation with ‘ about last night—, ’ then you immediately told—not asked— told me that I was going to stop scrying. And that’s how we ended up here.”

She tossed the brush on the vanity, found his eyes in the mirror, daring him to interrupt. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t.

“That creature last night,” she said. “It’s called a dream spinner. More commonly known as a grimble, based on the sound it makes. It’s a kind of Weave beast.”

“Like Calcifer?”

From the fire, Calcifer grumbled, his tail flicking as if to swat away the insult.

“Not like Calcifer,” Taly said. “Not all Weave beasts manifest physically. Mimics are unique in that regard. Most, like the grimble, are… parasites.”

“What does that mean?”

“The grimble attacks through the subconscious,” Taly went on, pinning back a braid. “Scrying sends ripples through the Weave, and they detect it the same way spiders sense vibrations. They come in through the unconscious mind, sifting through memories and using them to imprison their, uh… prey.”

She started the second braid. Her arms felt heavy and sore.

“They create a dream so real, it’s impossible to distinguish from reality.

Days, months, years… entire lifetimes can pass in a heartbeat.

And while the dreamer is lost in the illusion, the grimble feeds.

It drains away aether, all the potential of those lost years, and eventually, the mage slips into a coma and… dies.”

Behind her, Skye cursed.

“It’s fine,” Taly said. “Azura taught me how to fight them.”

Granted, coming out of chrono-stasis without a spotter was… unsettling . No safety net. No one to pull her soul back if she missed the mark.

“It’s fine,” she said again, as if repeating it might make it true. “I’m fine.”

“Fine…” Skye echoed, disbelieving. “Taly, you were dead for twenty minutes! ”

Taly blinked. Shit . That was a long time. In the void, it had felt like seconds—barely a breath.

“And I didn’t know why,” he said, voice raw. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.” His voice cracked. “One moment, you were fine. Then you weren’t. Here then just… gone . Do you have any idea what that was like?”

Taly closed her eyes. “You know I do.”

She’d never forget the agony of finding him dead on the throne room floor—or the overwhelming relief of seeing him alive again.

And then every vision where he’d died, every night she’d spent covered in his blood, unable to stop it, to do anything but stand by and watch…

She knew. Oh, she knew that pain and how it could fester. But what he wanted wasn’t reasonable.